


The Flip Side

by AliceMalefoy



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Aged-Up Peter Parker, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, College, Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Students, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 19:12:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19730035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliceMalefoy/pseuds/AliceMalefoy
Summary: Hurt/Comfort. Aged Up!Peter is in College now, but that doesn’t mean he relayed his Spider suit to the back of his closet. How does one balance out personal and superhero life?Does not take into account the Far From Home post-credit scenes; spoiler-free.





	The Flip Side

High school hadn’t been a walk in the park for Peter. One would argue that high school was tough for most people, but he thought he had had it worse, and he wasn’t wrong. Most people didn’t lead a secret double life they had to hide from the world lest it jeopardize their other, normal life. So, if someone had asked Peter back then what he wanted to do with his life, he wouldn’t have known what to answer; or rather, he knew what he wanted to say but feared the answer would disappoint.

Peter Parker wanted to apply for College and get a degree in physics, but that hope was shot dead when he received his report card on his last year. Being the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man did not allow for much study time, and his grades suffered from that. The consequence of this was that Ned got the scholarship for the University he wanted, and Peter didn’t.

He had thought that was it – he couldn’t ask his Aunt May to take up a loan to pay for his tuition, and what was he going to do with that degree anyway? Being a superhero didn’t require going to college. That was when Pepper Potts knocked on his door – metaphorically – and pulled a joker out of her sleeve.

Tony, ever ahead of everyone else, even in death, had opened an secret account in Peter’s name that he would only access at age eighteen, and that contained a frankly obscene amount of money meant to be his college fund (but that would surely last him a lifetime and leave him wanting for nothing). At least, he wouldn't have to live in a shared dorm room and that had to count for something, especially when you considered he would have had to wash his Spidey-suit in the laundromat.

This unexpected divine intervention from late Tony Stark had sparked hope in Peter’s heart and he dared wish for things once again. He ended up going to a different college than Ned, but he didn’t let that dampen his mood: he had to consider this a fresh start. And a fresh start it was because he knew no one, he was far from his best friend, his aunt and even more so from MJ who had left him earlier during their senior year on the ground that high school crushes don’t last.

He had been miserable at first, but quickly understood where she was coming from. They stayed good friends, though they tried to keep their interactions to a minimum and never hung out alone again after their breakup.

Despite all of this, Peter Parker felt ecstatic, like there was electricity in the air, when he walked on his new campus – at UC, Davis - , feeling like any other anonymous student in the crowd. He wouldn’t waste his chance at starting fresh, he owed it to himself. It was hell week, the worst time for freshmen; Peter thought he was the only person looking forward to being hazed.

When he moved out of his and Aunt May's apartment in Queens, he pictured a lot of things for his new life. Going to college, becoming an adult, being independent and surveying a new territory. He hoped to make friends quickly, have interesting classes, good grades, maybe get a girlfriend at some point - that was the dream. He never expected to find one on the first day, especially not during a three-legged race because the resident jock asked him to switch partners so he could be with the local cheerleader type girl.

“Hey man,” the tall blond had greeted him, slapping his shoulder so hard Peter thought he might have dislocated it if he wasn’t super-strong. “I got an idea. What about you go over there and ask the hot red head if she wants to trade places with you?”

This felt oddly familiar to Peter, being the loser people tried to get rid of. He looked over at the above-mentioned red head and agreed that she was very pretty. She was standing next to a shorter brunette and they were laughing together. He always admired the way girls flocked together and could act as if they had known each other all their lives even though they just met.

He didn’t feel like refusing the jock this favor because surely that would backfire. Not to mention that he didn’t particularly want to be hazed alongside him. All the first years trying for a science degree were gathered on the lawn and had been asked to pair up with someone they didn’t know.

Peter shrugged and walked over to the red head.

“Hi- Hi, my name’s Peter,” he awkward introduced himself, feeling terribly self-conscious when the tall girl stopped laughing and gave him an ice-cold glare.

“What can I do for you?” The temperature dropped even more when she opened her mouth.

“You see the guy over there?” He pointed his thumb over his shoulder, and her eyes followed the movement, landing on Mr. Blond Jock, a smile illuminating her face.

“I see him, yes,” she cooed and gone was the icy tone.

“He asks if you want to pair up with him.”

Peter stuck his hands in his pockets, feeling terrible for the other girl who surely hadn’t won anything in this sudden swipe, but the red-head eagerly agreed, forgetting about her new girl friend and scooting over to the eye-candy.

He hadn’t thought as far as to consider that he was now paired up with the brunette, and they both stood there, staring at each other like statues, not moving an inch. If he didn’t speak right the hell now, the awkward would only grow until it became irreversibly tense, so-

“I, ugh, I’m Peter,” he managed to say, not entirely sure how.

The tension left her shoulders and she gave him a coy little smile.

“I know, you just said it,” she giggled, adopting a more relaxed demeanor and letting her hip jut out instead of standing straight as an ‘I’. “I’m Elle.”

She held out her hand for him to shake. It was a bit of a formal greeting, but she thought it better than simply stand there, hands in their pockets. Taken aback, Peter merely stared at her hand for a moment too long before shaking it, and she laughed.

“Breathe, Peter. I don’t bite.”

“Sorry.” He blushed and tried to discreetly wipe his sweaty palms on his jeans. “First day… I’m a bit of a nervous wreck.” _Yeah, great Peter, just tell the pretty girl that you have crippling anxiety, why not pull out your inhaler too to impress her, ugh?_

“Oh, but you should be,” she told him, still grinning. “It’s not called hell week for funsies.”

“Wow thanks, I feel so much better now!” She laughed again; it was a nice sound and he noticed she scrunched up her nose when she laughed. “What’s your major?”

“Biotechnology. What about you?”

Peter’s eyebrows met his hairline and he had a slight backward movement upon hearing that. He didn’t expect that, but then again, what _did_ he expect?

“Applied physics, which sounds less fancy than your major, I admit,” he said with a throaty chuckle that quickly turned into a cough.

They only talked for a few more minutes before the Seniors in charge of the freshmen asked for their attention.

“The person you paired up with will be your teammate for the upcoming week, whether you get along or not,” they explained. “It’s part of the game, so play along or suffer the consequences.”

Apparently, the hazing would start slow to let them warm up – said with a sadistic smile on their faces. For starters, a three-legged race, two against two, and the losers had to down shots. Peter was not looking forward to what was to come after that, but he thought that at least, he had found an amicable partner to suffer through this week with. He hadn’t done too badly for a first day: Instead of being paired up with the jock and winning the race, Peter got Elle and while they might have ended up last, neither felt like they lost.

*

The world had healed from Thanos, or at least it seemed like it was doing well. Losing so many people at once had been a shock. All of a sudden, there was no more housing problems, no more issues with finding a job, or parking your car. Less pollution, less waste, more space. But it came with the devastating truth that your loved ones had turned to dust and disappeared from the face of the earth.

Nature at least, did a lot better with half the human population gone with the wind. When everybody came back, people were too happy to fully understand the effects it would have. It was disastrous. The Vanished simply reappeared where they disappeared, creating chaos all around the globe. They hadn’t aged, hadn’t a clue what happened, and wanted to pick up where they left off – expect they couldn’t.

Those who stayed had aged, had moved on as best they could. Old people had died, children had grown up, people had gotten married, babies had been born. A new President had been elected, those who vanished had been replaced, simply put. It was difficult, but the human species was a resilient one, and they had made it work.

Every year, there was a bank Holiday to remember the fateful day of the Snap, five years ago. Peter stood on the lawn in the middle of campus, right next to Elle. They were dressed up, as required, and stared ahead without saying a word, without smiling, or sending each other a teasing look. A minute of utter silence ticked by, making Peter’s ears whistle. Not a car honk, not a plane, not a cough was to be heard. The world was holding its breath for sixty long seconds.

And then it was over. People started moving again, breaking the impeccable lines they had formed and erupting in chatter as if they hadn’t spoken in days rather than seconds.

“We should go to town,” Elle blurted out, not yet looking at him. In fact, she was the only still standing straight and looking at the monument erected to commemorate the Vanished.

“But everything’s closed today,” Peter pointed out. She finally tore her gaze away from the statue and met his eyes. The corners of her mouth twitched slightly upwards.

“Even better. We’ll have the city to ourselves.” He could get behind that. Peter nodded in approval.

“Can I get changed first? I don’t feel like walking ‘round town in a suit.” He winced, vaguely gesturing at himself. In fact, Petr would rather walk around in his Spider-Man suit, which was made to measure, than this thing he rented for the day. “Meet here in ten?”

“Last one’s a loser,” Elle shouted before dashing off, holding up her formal dress to allow her to run across the lawn like the devil was chasing her, hair slipping out of her neat hairdo.

Oh, she was so going to lose. They had been hanging out since that first day, seven months ago. He was allowed to wipe the floor with her ass now, the awkward adjustment period after making a friend where you wonder if you can do this or that without upsetting them was over.

Four minutes later, Peter was standing in the exact same spot, wearing sneakers, jeans and a sweatshirt, and he was _delighted_ to see Elle run towards him, laughing and cursing because she was the loser, and wearing more or less the same outfit.

“And look who’s here last - _again_ ,” he teased her as soon as she was within earshot. “You need to stop challenging me and accept defeat.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” she replied, leaning on his shoulder to catch her breath. “Damn, I need to get in better shape. Or quit snacks, I don’t know which is worse.”

Peter chuckled and put his hands in his pockets. They hopped on the first bus, which was uncharacteristically empty, they even found two available seats. People liked to spend this holiday with their family, it was no wonder the streets were near deserted. The shops were closed, less buses circulated, the parks were empty. No cars driving around. It was peaceful.

They walked in comfortable silence for a while, taking this opportunity to visit the usually crowded places and enjoy the view. The closer they got to the water, the windier it became, and Elle pulled up her hood to stop her hair from flying around her face.

“Are you cold?” Peter asked, watching her square her shoulders and also put her hands in her front pocket.

“A little,” she admitted. “But it’s fine.”

Searching for something to do that wouldn’t be out there in the cold wind, Elle’s eyes eventually landed on a crepes vendor who was open down the street. They could walk in the narrow back streets to shield themselves for the wind from there.

“C’mon, I’ll buy you a crepe and we can visit the old town,” she told him, looping her arm around his elbow and pulling him forward.

“What about quitting snacks?” he teased her, a wicked grin on his face.

“It’s only a real diet if it starts the next day,” she replied, and he had to admit that was a pretty good comeback, she still had him beat in that area. “But for the sake of my credibility, we’ll share one. What flavor do you want?”

They stopped in their tracks by the shop’s window, squinting to see the menu.

“I don’t know, you choose,” Peter said with a shrug.

Elle smirked and turned towards him, a twisted little grin on her face as she gave him a once over.

“You look like a vanilla guy,” she chuckled, making Peter blush instantly.

He wasn’t the most perceptive guy, but he could tell an innuendo when he heard one, and her tone didn’t allow for much doubt.

“I- I’m not- I mean, I like- but I’m not-“ he stuttered out, the shade of red of his face deepening with each word tumbling out of his mouth. “Vanilla’s fine,” he finally said, if only to put an end to his misery.

“I was kidding,” she assured him, seeing his state of distress. “Though there’s nothing wrong with that.”

With a shrug, Elle walked inside and ordered her crepe, while Peter waited outside, letting the cold wind cool down his face. She was only messing with him. It was merely payback for his teasing her earlier.

She came back with a vanilla sugar crepe and let him have the first bite.

“So, since it’s commemoration day and all, I thought I’d ask”, she started, licking her fingers clean. “What happened to you?”

Peter forced down an awkward chuckle at this, wondering how to answer that as truthfully as possible without full-on telling her he was trying to save the world on another planet called Titan and miserably failed, which led to him and half of humanity during to ash.

“I was one of the Vanished, so… not much happened,” he tried to say it as offhandedly as possible, not letting his grief show through.

“What was it like?” Elle wondered out loud, looking up at him. “I mean, if it’s not-“

“’s okay.” Peter shrugged. “I take it you were among the lucky ones who inherited the earth after the Snap?”

“Yeah…” Elle lowered her head, as if thinking back on something. “It’s just that most people never even mention it. It’s become taboo and-“

“You really don’t need to explain,” Peter cut her off. “I get it. But it would be hard to describe. I was just there, then I wasn’t. And the next second, I was back. It felt like waking up from a nap, and I don’t remember anything of the five years that had gone by when I came back. It must have been harder for the people who stayed.”

Elle stopped walking and Peter froze when she suddenly wasn’t by his side anymore.

“You know, you’re the first person to tell me that,” she said, looking pained. “I have a baby sister. She was four when the vanished, and my parents took it very hard, it was horrible at home. We had all aged when she re-appeared, and while we were all over the moon to have her again, it was never the same as before. I don’t have a relationship with her because she’s so much younger than me now. My parents didn’t think they would get to raise her again, they’d thrown all her stuff away because it hurt to have it home, and-“ she stopped, unable to continue.

“I’m sorry you had to go through this,” Peter said with a gravity she had never seen on him.

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault.” She pushed back on hood and crossed her arms over her chest. Peter was afraid she would cry but she seemed to pull herself together and decide to move on to a lighter topic. “I shouldn’t cry about this, today is for celebrating the fact that you came back, not for throwing a pity party.”

“That’s true. Just imagine what your life would be if I hadn’t returned,” Peter joked in an attempt to make her smile return. It worked, to his utmost relief. “Awful.”

“I’d be hanging out with the Ryans instead,” she said with a shudder.

It had turned out, to their absolute bafflement, that Blond Jock and Red-head were both called Ryan. Thus becoming “The Ryans” when they started dating. Elle had made several crude jokes about the Ryans screaming their own name during sex, and Peter had blushed and laughed along to hide his embarrassment. She really had a talent for making him lose his composure.

“So really, you should be celebrating me today,” Peter argued.

They had resumed their walk and were now crossing an almost empty square lined with cute little shops – all closed.

“I shared my crepe with you, Vanilla Boy!” She rolled her eyes. “Hey, wait a second!” Elle stopped again, one hand on Peter’s shoulder to prevent him from walking away. “That means I was born five years after you, even though we’re the same age!”

“Solid deduction,” Peter agreed with a condescending nod, earning a swat on the shoulder. “I mean, yeah, what’s your point?”

“When’s your birthday?” she asked.

Peter raised a brow.

“June 1st,” he said, not seeing where this was going. Elle broke into a smile. A Cheshire Cat, ear-to-ear kind of smile that made Peter shudder. “What is it? I feel like I just said something I shouldn’t have.”

“I’m older than you,” she beamed.

“What? No- what?”

“My birthday is May 30th, which means I’m two days older than you.”

“That is- that’s not-“ Peter sucked in a breath, holding a finger up but radiating no authority whatsoever. “That’s wrong,” he finished, in a rather anti-climactic fashion.

“It’s quite simple math, really, I’m sure even you in applied physics know that,” Elle snickered, making Peter squint his eyes at her.

“Technically, I-“

“No technicalities, just plain old math,” she cut him off, enjoying herself very much. “Do not contradict your elders, Vanilla Boy.”

“Stop calling me that,” he grumbled, pouting.

“Why?”

“I don’t like it.”

“Why not? It suits you,” Elle challenged him, stepping forward, chin up.

“I’m not vanilla.”

How did he say that without liquefying on the pavement? He would think about that later. But he sure felt his cheeks burn up when Elle closed the remaining distance between them until there was but an inch separating their faces and she whispered, “Prove it.”

If Peter was half as brave as he ought to be as an Avenger, he would have done it. He would have kissed her, like he had wanted to do for months now. But he couldn’t. His body refused to move, and it was like high school all over again, when he couldn’t muster up the courage to talk to the girl he liked. Elle was smirking, waiting for him to make a move, but he simply couldn’t.

Peter closed his eyes and stepped back, sighing to himself, admitting defeat. Elle smiled wider.

“I knew it.” Before Peter had a chance to let her know it wasn’t very tasteful to boast about this, she slipped a hand behind his neck and pulled him back to her. He closed his eyes again when their lips met, and she kissed him.

Not long enough, though.

“That’s okay, you’re my Vanilla Boy,” she told him before pulling back and smiling up at him.

He must have looked awfully shocked because her smile dropped right away, and she let him go.

“I- I’m sorry, did I misread the situation?” she stuttered out, losing her self-confidence now that the deed was done. At least, it comforted him to know she was a little nervous too. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry, I don’t kno-“

This time around, Peter was the one doing to startling and cradled her face between his hands to kiss her once more, muffling her rambling. Elle gave in to the embrace and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, kissing back. They didn’t break away so soon this time.

“You didn’t misread anything, you’re very good at reading situations,” Peter assured her, making them both giggle like fools.

At least, there were no witnesses to this awkward display of affection. The wind had picked up and the people who were outside had gone home a while ago. It looked like it was going to rain anytime now.

Peter interlaced their fingers and slipped their joined hands into the front pocket of his sweater, and together, they walked back to his place, to get a roof over their head before it started pouring on them.

*

Elle woke up with a start at her desk. Shit, it was the third time she snoozed on her textbook. She wasn’t even done with today's reading, but she was tired and couldn’t seem to focus. Senior year required much more reading than she was prepared for, but freshers was long behind her.

Truth was, Peter should have been back already. It was nearly half past 10pm. Not very late for a college student, but later than normal for Peter; he always made sure not to stay out too late when he was on a beat. He knew Elle worried if he stayed out too long after dark and it was late November. It became dark around five, he had had enough time to scout the neighborhood, what was he doing?

Sitting at the desk in sweatpants and a vintage original Jurassic Park t-shirt, Elle stretched and yawned, as if to get the tired out. She liked to dress down when she studied, and she loved that shirt. She had bought it at an auction for more money than she would ever care to admit - Peter had found out but was sworn to secrecy before Ned could tease the answer out of him. The memory made her laugh, and she stood up to get herself a snack.

She was halfway done with preparing her PB&J sandwich when the sound of broken glass caught her attention. Elle’s head jerked up and she dropped her snack, running to the living room. She always left a window unlocked for Peter to use when he came back from a mission and couldn’t use the front door. It was too risky to walk through the front door where the night manager sat at his desk.

Shards of glass from a vase littered the floor and the window was wide open, a dark silhouette standing before it.

“Peter,” Elle breathed out, bringing a hand to her mouth and staring in horror.

She lunged forward just as he did the same and they crashed into each other, holding on for dear life. Nights such as this one occurred on rare but dreaded occasions. He wore his sweats, which wasn’t a good sign. He always carried those around to wear over his suit in case he needed to stay incognito and sneak back home.

The relief was so great that tears threatened to spill over, but Elle swallowed them back and breathed in his scent instead, telling herself over and over again that everything was fine, Peter was fine. Though she way he leaned into her was worrying, she felt she carried all his weight and he would have collapsed on the floor if she hadn’t been there to catch him.

Elle pulled down Peter’s hood to reveal his battered face as soon as he released her from his embrace. His tousled hair was matted in blood, sticking to his head.

“You should see the other guys,” Peter tried to joke before Elle could ask what on earth happened.

Still repressing her tears – and now a slight smile - Elle pulled him back to her and threw her arms around his neck. The movement caused Peter to grunt slightly and cough a little but he returned the hug without a word, nuzzling Elle’s neck and closing his eyes in delight.

This mission had been worse than expected, but he always felt like everything was alright when he held Elle in his arms like now. He couldn’t afford to lose a fight or be killed, ever, because she was waiting for him. If one day he didn’t return, he knew for a fact that she would leave that window unlocked for the years to come, hoping against hope that he would turn up again.

They have been together for little less than four years now, and Elle had moved in with Peter last year. Of course, she knew about his alter ego long before taking that step – she guessed actually, much like MJ had back in High School. Except that, in retrospect, Peter realized he wasn’t the most discreet back then, so perhaps he had laid out the ground for MJ to find out. But he couldn’t take credit away from Elle, because he had taken every precaution to make sure she wouldn’t be dragged into his superhero problems.

Turns out, she wanted to be a part of it. When he decided to tell her, it was because he couldn’t bear the thought of keeping the truth from her anymore – if he couldn’t trust the girl he loved to keep his secret, than what was the point of this relationship? She had smiled and said she was glad he had finally told her. For days Peter had racked his brain to try and find what gave him away, but he never found out, and she never told him. She said it was her secret, but not to worry, that no one else but her would find out.

Still, back then, she couldn’t have measured what it entailed to be in a relationship with Spider-Man, the constant worry, the anguish, the violence. Every day, she feared he might not come back, and every day, Peter feared she might leave.

“You need to sit down,” she said, finally letting go, sniffling but holding back the treacherous tears. “I’ll get the first-aid kit.”

Elle was about to go to the bathroom when Peter caught her wrist, silently asking her to stay with him for now. Together, they slowly walked to the couch and Peter dropped there with a pained groan, arching his back and hissing between his clenched teeth.

“What can I do?” Elle urged him, feeling powerless.

Pushing her hair back, she knelt down in front of him, holding his hands in hers. There was no worse feeling than seeing Peter hurt and not being able to do anything about it. What good was a degree in biotechnology? She should have been a nurse!

“I’ll be fine, I’ll- I’ll heal,” he assured her, sighing once the pain subdued and he was able to lean into the back of the couch without feeling as though a thousand needles pierced his spine.

Elle gave him a once over to check for any severe wound that he would try and hide from her to spare her feelings. She wasn’t that soft, she could handle whatever happened, if only he allowed her to help. He was covered in bruises, his left eye was black already; she also spotted several cuts on his cheeks; his knuckles were raw, and she would bet his suit was torn in places under his black sweats. Whenever he coughed, he held his ribs, hissing, and she guessed some were broken.

Just then, his phone buzzed, and he took it out of his pocket, checking the caller ID and dropping it face down on the couch. Elle dived on the phone like a hawk to see who it was, and Peter began to cough again, blood staining his lips. If Elle didn't know he healed ten times faster than any normal human being, she would be sick with worry. While it hurt to see him like this, she knew what she had signed up for when she started a life with Peter Parker. It was part of the job to come back in rough shape sometimes, and there was very little she could do about it - except make things easier whenever possible.

“I can't- I can't...” Peter rasped, shaking his eyes as he looked at his screen which had lit up with a picture of Aunt May. Elle looked at it too, knowing it was up to her to deal with this.

“Hi, May. This is Elle.” She pressed the speaker button and laid the phone on the couch, so Peter could hear everything.

“Oh, hi Elle, I didn't expect to hear you. It's been a while, how are things?”

“Everything is going well, I'm not complaining,” she answered, using her small talk voice.

“Is Peter with you? I haven't heard from him in a week, I thought I'd get a hold of him before going to bed.”

Elle looked at Peter on the couch, looking the worse for wear, like he had been punched through an entire building and came out on the other side. Which was probably what really happened, it wouldn’t be the first time anyway. She would get the details later.

“He just came back from a mission,” she told May.

She didn't like lying to her, she was family. Peter looked alarmed. He didn't want to worry May, he didn't want her to freak out even if she had every right to. Elle could get behind that. His life wasn't in any danger and she was the one who collected the pieces now. Peter wasn't a teenager anymore and Aunt May forgot that sometimes.

“Is he alright?” There was the concern in her voice. Elle had put her on speaker so Peter couldn't do anything but stare wide eyed at his girlfriend, silently shaking his head.

“He's fine, no need to worry. He's just really tired and fell asleep as soon as he hit the pillow.” She hated that the lie came out so easily, but it was for the best. Like said before, Peter was in no direct danger, his body was healing so fast she could already swear some cuts disappeared. It didn't make it any easier to see him in such a state. “I'll let him know you checked in, and make sure to tell him to call you tomorrow.”

Aunt May chatted a bit longer before bidding Elle good night and hanging up, making it harder to keep up the appearance that everything was peachy. The moment Elle ended the call, she sighed and slouched over Peter’s knees.

“Thank you. I'm sorry you have to do that.”

He doesn't try to explain or justify himself. Elle already knew that he didn’t ask her to lie for the sake of it, or because he wanted to hide what he did from his last living family member. He did what he always did: he protected them. And if by telling white lies to May to help her sleep better at night Elle could participate in this, then so be it.

“I’m sorry too,” she said, her eyes glowing with a mix sadness and overwhelming relief. One single tear rolled down her cheek. “C’mon now.” She wiped it away with the palm of her hand. “We need to get you out of this suit and into the shower. You know the rule: no-“

“-bleeding in our bed,” Peter finished, smiling weakly. “Yes, I know. Give me a hand.”

Getting him to stand up was an ordeal in itself, but removing two layers of clothes, one of which was a super suit that Elle still didn’t know how to work, and waddling towards the bathroom without hitting any furniture proved to be near impossible. They had been there before, and it usually ended up in a lot of cussing and laughing, quickly followed by grunts of pain because it hurt to laugh.

In removing the ripped suit, Elle bared Peter’s back and stared blankly at the many scars littering his body. There were white and completely healed scars under the new ones. The most worrying was the long gash running from his shoulder down to the middle of his back, it still oozed blood and looked deep enough to require assistance in healing.

Elle undressed and threw her clothes in a corner to shower with Peter who could barely stand alone now that the adrenalin from the fight had worn off and made way to utter exhaustion and numbness. It was better than hurting all over, Elle supposed. She did most of the work because Peter had to grip the edge of the shower wall to stay standing.

“Talk to me,” she asked him while gently rubbing his back, taking extra care not to go anywhere near his open wound with the soap or the shower head. “What happened out there? Who did this to you?”

Peter wanted to tell her that he did this to himself, no one forced him to play superhero, he was responsible for his own life choices. But it wasn’t what Elle wanted to hear.

“There were more of them than I expected,” he simply told her. “I should have surveyed the place before going in, they were obviously prepared for my coming.”

Elle nodded even if Peter couldn’t see her. She had learnt not to give him pointless words of reassurance such as “it wasn’t your fault” and “there was nothing you could do”.

“People are used to your presence now, they know Spider-Man has relocated to California, and no longer operates in New York City.”

“And unlike New York, there’s only one superhero here, and that’s me,” he sighed, leaning his head back so Elle could wash his hair.

“Hey, don’t beat yourself up over this! You said I should see the other guys, that means you got them, right?” she asked, prompting him to smile, even just a little. “You defeated the bad guys, and you came back to me. That’s all that matters.”

“I guess you’re right,” he whispered to himself, knowing there was no winning an argument against Elle regarding this matter. “Next time, I-“ he hissed and bit down on his lip when soap trickled in his back wound.

“This one is not pretty, it needs stitches,” Elle informed him with a wince, knowing how much he hated being stitched up.

They finished up and got out of the shower. The warm water had done its job: it had washed away the blood and eased the tension in Peter’s aching muscles. He could walk alone, though he remained unsteady on his feet. Elle put on her robe and Pete wrapped a towel around his middle before sitting down on the stool next to the shower. While he rubbed a towel on his head to absorb the excess water, Elle prepared the thread and needle, sterilizing it before coming to stand behind her very much shaking boyfriend.

“I apologize in advance,” she said before leaning over and getting to work.

She truly hated doing that, but she had learned to be good at it. From the corner of her eye, she saw his fists tightening and his jaw clenching when the needle came in contact with his flesh, but she had to keep going.

“Almost done,” Elle said, feeling how tense Peter was under her touch, grounding his teeth to avoid groaning in pain and worrying her more than she already was. “Here, all good.” His shoulders slumped as soon as the words left her mouth.

Elle cut off the thread and cleaned up the trickles of blood running down his back, then she also cleaned the other, minor cuts, and went back to the kitchen to grab the ice pack from the fridge to apply on his broken ribs.

“Hold it in place as long as you need,” she said, knowing very little about what to do in case of broken ribs but trusting the cold would reduce the pain. “Can you stand up?”

Her fingers brushed against his naked shoulder and it broke her heart when he looked up with a crooking smirk, eyes blood shot and bruised. He nodded, grabbing her hand in his to give it a reassuring squeeze and placing a kiss on the back of it.

“I’ll get dressed and be right over,” he told her, not yet knowing if he had the strength to do any of this.

Summoning all of his remaining forces, he got up on his feet without toppling over. It seemed to ease her mind a little bit because she smiled for real this time and when Peter tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and stroked her cheek, she leaned into his touch and blushed slightly. Elle was the only girl Peter ever managed to make blush, and he liked that.

“You dumbass,” she told him in a chuckle. “Any gray hair I might have is on you, you know that?”

“Some people bleach their hair to get that color,” he pointed out, making her laugh again and ignoring the throbbing pain in his side as he held the ice pack more firmly to his ribs.

Elle felt better but was aware that he pushed through the pain for her sake, so she cut short their exchange to get dressed again before going to the kitchen and preparing two cups of tea. Peter liked his tea a certain way, and she alone had mastered it. She took out their respective favorite mugs while the water boiled and added sugar to their preference, then cut a slice a lemon to put in Peter’s.

Soon, she heard the kitchen stool creak against the wooden floor, and she poured the water, then carried their mugs over to the table. He looked more human now that he was clean and wearing his pajamas, almost like nothing happened at all – if it weren’t for the bruises, sore and sole reminder of his extra-curricular activities.

“Who was it tonight?”

“A local gang that was responsible for a good portion of the drugs circulating on the territory. It was delivery night tonight, so I thought I’d make two birds one stone and get both the supplier and the reseller, but like I said, I severely underestimated their manpower.”

“It was a good idea, but hard to pull off when you’re alone,” Elle agreed. “It’d be different if you had a partner, someone to count on out there.”

“But I have a partner,” Peter countered, shooting her a charming grin and nudging her in the shoulder. Elle tried not to smile but it was a losing battle. “I can count on you.”

“But not when you go on a mission. You need someone to have your back on the field,” she replied, rolling her eyes and taking a sip of her tea. Elle fidgeted with the handle of her mug, anxiously thinking about what would happen if one day, Peter did not come back. “If I could, I would come with.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s the truth. If I knew I could help one way or another, I would come with you. I’d be your Robin,” she laughed. “We’re only talking, of course. I don’t have powers and I would be a burden and a distraction if I followed you on your missions.”

Peter’s smile vanished as he turned towards Elle, a serious expression twisting his otherwise relaxed features.

“You sound like you put an awful lot of time into that thought,” he pointed out.

“I have. I wish I could do more than just patch you up after the work’s been done.” She let go of her mug and put her hands in her lap to stop fidgeting.

What to say to that? Peter understood the feeling but he couldn’t bear the thought of Elle standing between him and a bullet. Her life could never be in danger because of him, that’s where he drew the line. Her safety was everything. His mouth went dry.

“I didn’t know my double life took such a toll on you,” he croaked out, biting the inside of his cheeks and hollowing them out as he thought about what she said. “I know it’s not easy. If it ever becomes too much…”

“I forbid you to finish that sentence,” Elle cut him off before he said the damn words.

He had told her already, time and time again, that she was free to walk out of his life if she felt too unsafe or unhappy. A conversation that no people their age should have, in Peter’s opinion, but they had had it anyway, because he wasn’t any people of his age, he was Spider-Man.

“The option is there,” he still said, staring right into her clouded eyes.

They were deep and full of boundless affection that he would like to drown in, but he couldn’t turn his back on the people who needed Spider-Man. Peter Parker might belong to Elle, but Spider-Man belonged to the people.

“I never considered it an option, Peter. Do you really think I would leave you when you need me the most? Do you think so little of me?” It was difficult not to cry at this point, but perhaps it was what Elle needed: to let it all out of her system.

“Of course not,” Peter sighed, sliding off his stool to stand behind her, encircling her with his arms and letting the ice pack hit the floor. Elle felt a cold spot on her back, where Peter pressed his cold side. She held on to his arm around her middle.

“Then don’t ask me to quit you again,” she demanded, sounding determined. “I’m here by my own volition, because I want to be with you. I love you, Peter, I love you.”

“I know, I know you do,” he whispered in her ear, his face buried in her neck while he rocked them gently. Elle shook slightly against him, as though she were repressing sobs. “I only suggested it because I love you too. Too much to let you be miserable because I’m such a dumb superhero who half-asses his survey jobs.”

This time he could tell she was shaking from laughter and he felt better knowing she wasn’t too mad at him. Trust him to mess up a mission and then upset his girlfriend in the same evening.

“I didn’t mean to start whining, sorry,” Elle apologized, dismissing her behavior and worry and pulling herself together.

“Don’t say that,” Peter scolded her, turning her around on the rotating chair to look at her. “Whatever’s on your mind, I want to hear about it. Even if it’s about how much of an idiot boyfriend I am. You’re right, I know you worry about me, and it doesn’t help that I come home looking like I’ve been run over by a truck.”

“You really do,” she felt the need to say, much to Peter’s bafflement. He gaped at her, then shook his head, though he couldn’t hide the slight smirk on his face.

“Right. But what I’m trying to say is that I understand. I’d want to do more if we traded roles. In fact, I’d be much worse! If I were you, I’d have tried and followed you already and butted in at the worst possible time during a fight. That’s just the kind of timing and luck that I have!” he rambled, making big hand gestures that made Elle smile and reach out for his face.

“Focus, Peter.”

“Yes, right! Where was I? You definitely can’t come with me out there, it’s too dangerous, and I’d rather get beat up every day than see you in harm’s way. But you’re the smartest out of the two of us- don’t interrupt,” he quickly added when Elle was about to argue. “Would it help if you could participate more? I’ve always kept to myself because I thought it would make you worry too much if you knew what I was up against, but maybe… maybe it’s the contrary.”

“Maybe, yeah,” Elle repeated softly, watching Peter’s agitated state, expecting him to drop any moment, out of exhaustion. “I won’t be your Robin, then.”

“No, you’ll be my Q.”

Elle lifted a skeptical eyebrow.

“Because you’re James Bond, huh,” she hummed, obviously not convinced.

Peter slapped a hand over his chest.

“You wound me,” he said dramatically. “Do I not look like the next James Bond?” he asked in a funny English accent, pretending to hold up a gun.

“This is a trick question, joker.” Elle shook her head, looking away from him before she burst in laughter. “All jokes aside, I would like that very much. Maybe if you run your plans by me, you won’t forget to make sure you’re not heading towards an army of gang members waiting for you to show up.”

“Too soon, Elle, way too soon,” Peter whined, making her laugh. “So, what do you say? You want the job?”

“Where do I sign?” Elle asked.

Peter didn’t say anything, but his smug smile said it all. Then, he pointed at his lips. Without a word, Elle slipped her hand behind his neck and pulled him towards her lips, being very careful not to hurt him in the process, then sealed the deal with a kiss.

“Great. Now I’ll head to bed, because I’m this close to sleeping on the kitchen floor,” Peter kindly informed Elle, already dragging her behind him. “Let’s call it a day.”

She could tell he felt better already; there was little to no reason to worry herself sick over his well-being, but she couldn’t help herself. When she saw him hurt, her heart constricted in the most unpleasant way, and she wanted to rip apart those who did this to her man.

“We’ll have to discuss the specifics of my new job in the morning. Also, you should know that if I ever meet a gang member, I will throw hands with him for laying a hand on you,” she giggled behind him, following Peter to their bedroom.

When Peter’s tired body hit the mattress, he let out a long groan of delight. He had been standing for way too long, it was a miracle he hadn’t simply collapsed the moment he came back. What he wouldn’t do for his lovely girlfriend.

She usually slept on the left side of the bed, but he felt the bed dip on his right. He knew she didn’t like to sleep window-side because of the draft, but he didn’t say anything. She was doing this because of his ribs, he knew it, she didn’t want to accidentally hit him there.

He didn’t mind the pain much, it was subsiding already, and he would rather hold Elle in his arms a bit longer than sleep right away. She guessed as much and scooted over to join him in the middle of the bed, huddling against his body in the dark. They both sighed in content, finally letting go of the day’s tension and enjoying being in each other’s presence.

Peter slipped a hand under Elle and rested his hand in the small of her back, while the other gently played with her hair. Her open palm rested on his chest, as if it soothed her to feel his heartbeat – and maybe it did, how would he know? He pressed his cheek against the top of her head and let his fingertips trail up and down her spine.

“You know, you might think you don’t do much right now, but you’re wrong. Thank you for everything.”

Elle wriggled slightly against him.

“It's nothing,” she muttered against his neck, eyes open now.

“It's not nothing. I don't know what I would do without you.”

“C'mon now.” She lifted her head to meet his gaze. She could see his blue eyes, even in the dark room only lit by the moon. “I'm sure it isn't that hard to find someone who can stitch a wound.”

“It's not about stitching my wounds, Elle, but about everything else. It's about waiting for me without knowing when or if I'll come back. About reassuring May even if you have to lie. About preparing tea just the way I like and sleeping on the window side even if you don't like it and putting up with my double life all the time.”

A silence followed, and he wondered if he should have kept quiet, but then Elle spoke up.

“It's all or nothing, Peter. I don't want just one half of you, I want every aspect of Peter Parker, even if some of them come with their drawbacks. You can’t expect me to only love a part of you.”

Now he was the one who didn’t know what to say. What answer did he expect? Not this one, that much was clear. It occurred to him that he frequently forgot that Elle really did love him whole heartedly; or rather, he persuaded himself that no one could love him this much. But maybe – just maybe – he could dare to hope that he found the one person who would stick by his side forever.

“No, I really can’t,” he said with a goofy smile.

Peter leaned in once more, pressing his lips against Elle’s for a soft, hungry kiss. They didn’t break it before being out of breath. Then Peter placed a quick kiss to her forehead and bid her goodnight, still holding her tight – and God be witness, he would never let her go.


End file.
